What's in a Name?
by audi katia
Summary: A reflective character study behind the main characters and the names and titles they have acquired. Takes place before and after the movie.
1. Capt James T Kirk

_Everyone on the Enterprise has several names that they go by. For instance, McCoy is Bones and canon only just declared that Uhura is Nyota. I want to illustrate the meaning behind five names per character and the relationships between the namers and the namees._

_**Disclaimer**: Honestly, I don't think I'd know what to do with Star Trek if I actually owned it. I'm content to just write fanfiction instead._

* * *

**Capt. James T. Kirk**

**I love the name of honor more than I fear death.  
-Julius Caeser**

_**Everyone calls him Captain.**__**  
**__**  
**_A captain cannot cheat death.

Was that some sort of epitaph that went on his father's bodiless grave? Were those his last words to be forever preserved on tape? Was there any indication at all that the stupid phrase be remembered?

No, there was no reason for everyone to spit out that phrase like it's supposed to make a difference in Kirk's life. His whole life, he's been hearing that. As though since his father was captain, he shouldn't be surprised that he's dead because captains cannot cheat death.

He wasn't even captain for that long. Only ten minutes or something like that. (Actually, it was twelve minutes and fourteen seconds, but if he lets on that he actually cares enough to remember, they might pity him even more.) He would have known he would die?

So they can all go to Hell, he thinks. All those people who act as though it was an honor for him to die. (Of course it was an honor. His father's a hero.) They make it sound like, oh well, of course he had to die. Captaincy means certain death, didn't you know? Look it up in the dictionary or thesaurus. Captain George Kirk's picture is displayed there, too.

He's not a captain. He's never going to job Starfleet, he won't be a captain. And apparently only captains cannot cheat death. He's not a captain, therefore he can. So he pushes his limits out in Iowa, stretching himself as far as he can before reaching the brink of death. He hangs off of cliffs, gets into fights, pokes sleeping beasts where they lie, all because he can cheat death.

But it's a strange turn of events and suddenly he's in the captain's chair aboard the Enterprise. It fits so well, you'd think it was made for him. Bones doesn't waste time telling him that he sits in it like it's a throne, but Kirk doesn't care. He's never felt more at home, more needed in his entire life as he does in this chair on this bridge on this ship.

He's not the same person he was back in Iowa, that much is certain. Sure, he still flirts. He still acts better than anyone else, because most of the time, he is better. But he doesn't push his limits as much. He doesn't drink as much as he can just to see how quick he can reach the blackout. He doesn't ignore advice just because he likes the way bruises look on his skin.

He's the captain now, and captains cannot cheat death.

* * *

_**Bones calls him Kid.**_

"Six years."

"Dammit, what are you talking about?"

"I did the math, Mr. Crankypants. You're only six years older than me."

"Congratulations. I'm sure you were up half the night counting on your fingers."

"…I choose to ignore that. Anyway, the point is: You're only six years older than me."

"This better have a point, kid."

"AH HA!"

"Good God, man, what's your problem?"

"That's exactly my point! You keep referring to me as _kid_!"

"You're younger than me. And you act like an infant."

"Name one time I've acted like an infant."

"Last night when you whined about how I threw my textbooks at you. Last week when that filly at the bar hit on the guy next to you, that would be me, and not you. The week before that when you cried over failing that damn Kobayashi Maru test."

"…I choose to ignore those, too. And I only told you to mention one time, thanks. Anyway, the point is, you keep calling me _kid_ when you're only six years older."

"You're gonna bother me until we fix this, aren't you?"

"Oh, you do know me so well."

"Fine. I'll stop calling you _kid_ if you stop calling me _Bones_."

A pause.

"No deal. Calling you _Bones_ is too much fun."

"Then you're still _kid_."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"And just for the record, I never cried over that stupid test."

"Whatever you say, kid."

* * *

_**Uhura calls him Kirk.**_

Aren't you supposed to treat the captain with respect? Everyone treats him with respect! Chekov practically trips over his feet with captain-worship. Even Spock acts courteously, and he emotionally compromised him!

But then there's Uhura.

She's fiercer than anyone on the Bridge, even Sulu who fences like a fiend. Hell, she could probably give Bones a run for his money if they ever got into a battle of wits and insults. And that's saying something because he used to think Bones was undefeatable. She spouts snarky comments from the side of her mouth and shoots from the hips, and damned if he doesn't love her for it.

She does her work better than anyone, even the original communications officer that Pike had assigned to the Bridge. Her talent and determination mixed with the fact that she looks infinitely better in the uniform than anyone else is why Kirk hasn't fired her or even reprimanded her for her behavior.

And if truth be told, he enjoys her disrespect and the resulting banter between them. He's not cocky, he's just self-assured. But she can't see that (no one can) and responds with some biting comment that would sting anyone with a thinner skin than his.

"Hailing frequencies, Kirk."

"Don't you mean, 'hailing frequencies, _Captain'_?"

There's a pause, and he can practically hear her raise her eyebrows.

"Hailing frequencies, _Kirk_."

It's their routine: He says something that she misconstrues as arrogant. She might do whatever work he asks her to do, but she does it with this attitude that rivals anyone he's ever met. Then she turns her head ever so slightly, tilting it to the side just so, and gives him what he's coined "the Kirk-smirk."

He's fairly certain that she doesn't share that smirk with anyone else, though she rolls her eyes when he makes that claim.

* * *

_**Chekov calls him Keptin.**_

It's not like he means it any differently than anyone else. He just says it differently. But that makes a world of a difference to Kirk.

He asks a question or makes a request, and Kirk finds he is entirely unable to not indulge Chekov. There's only eight years between them. For God's sake, he's slept with women with more of an age difference! It shouldn't be so difficult to accept Chekov as one of his own.

But Chekov asks a simple question, and his eyes are just so _huge_. Kirk is forcefully reminded of himself when he was only a toddler and asking his mother why they didn't celebrate Father's Day.

And then Kirk remembers why he's on the Enterprise and why he worked so hard and risked mutiny to save everyone. Because it's what his father did. You save the ones you care for, the ones frailer than you.

"And that's how you know the chicken's done," Kirk finishes explaining to Chekov. The young ensign nods vigorously, his curls shaking around his slender face. A surge of protection overwhelms him, and he knows that he will do anything to help Chekov and everyone like him.

"Zank joo, Keptin."

* * *

_**His mother calls him Jim.**_

To her, he's _Jim_. Never _Jimmy_ when she's in a good mood, nor _James_ when she's livid with him over his latest stunt at school.

No matter what conquest he made the night before with whoever he found at the bar, no matter how many months he's been away in space, he feels like none of that matters when he's with his mother.

Bones laughs at his humbleness and Spock gives his version of a smirk (he probably learned that from Uhura), but Kirk doesn't do anything to stop them because he's afraid his mother will call him out on being mean to his friends. She's the only woman in the world who can control him this well.

All she has to say is _Jim_, and he backs down from any argument. She has always been the sort of woman that people can't say no to, unless _no_ is the answer she wants.

She is the one person in the world who has known him before nicknames. He stands before her, stripped of all his titles except for that first one he received so many years ago. She never asked for much in life (and got even less than that), and everything was given to him. The least he can do is answer when she calls his name.

* * *

_Well, what do you think? Please, please review and let me know. I'll be updating this within the next few days, hopefully. McCoy is next._


	2. Doctor Leonard H McCoy

_I spent hours working on this. I rewrote several sections before I was finally satisfied. It's written a little different than Kirk's, but I hope you still enjoy it. It's more drabble-esque rather than insight like Kirk's. Also, it's all in present tense except for Uhura's section. Don't ask me why. It just is. Anyway, Bones is my favorite character (tied with Spock) so this was so much fun to write. His family life makes me want to hug him._

_**Disclaimer**: I own a receipt for my spiffy new haircut. But I do not own Star Trek._

_**Warnings**: Bones is a potty mouth, we all know this. And he's a bad influence on Kirk. Also, since I am such a huge Kirk/Bones fan, I can't not write them without writing a little slash. It can be constued as just strong friendship, but it can also be looked at as pre-slash._

* * *

**Doctor Leonard H. McCoy**

**Nicknames stick to people, and the most ridiculous are the most adhesive.  
-Thomas C. Haliburton**

_**Everyone calls him Doctor.**_

There's blood everywhere. And it's Kirk's. And it's Sulu's. And the green splatter all over the transporter can belong to no one but Spock.

A stream of swears follows McCoy as he rushes into the transporter room with a handful of other doctors and nurses. They place the bleeding, unconscious bodies onto the stretchers before doing their best to carefully race down to Sick Bay.

There's blood everywhere. It drips on the cold tiles lining the hallway connecting the Sick Bay and the transporter. If Spock were awake, he would comment how logical it is to have placed the two wings beside each other.

McCoy grabs hyposprays and IVs left and right, yelling out orders to his subordinates as they run around him with their hands full of bandages and other medical supplies that blur white as they rush. Nurse Chapel runs a scan over Kirk's body as McCoy snatches it out of her hands.

"I've got this," he near shouts at her. With a quick nod, she moves away to Spock's bed, checking his statistics.

There's blood everywhere. On Kirk's stomach, his arms. His face looks as though it will be permanently stained red, particularly his mouth where the vivid blood must have dribbled out.

"Dammit!" Bones swears as he takes over the scan. A few broken ribs and burns aside, there are no serious injuries other than the bloody mess obtained from the explosion on that damn planet Kirk insisted on visiting.

Hours are spent patching up the captain, commander, and helmsmen, and McCoy has answered more questions on Vulcan physiology that he's sure he's going to be dreaming about logical situations for weeks to come. A carefully crafted expression crosses Chapel's face, and he knows that she's wondering why he didn't just take care of Spock himself. He knows Vulcans better than any of the other doctors.

But he's by Jim's side and refuses to leave.

"You're the doctor," Chapel shrugs, stabbing another hypospray into Spock's pale neck.

Thirty two hyposprays, five IVs, and several skin grafts later, Kirk, Spock, and Sulu are well on their way to a full recovery. A few doctors and nurses are willing to remain, but McCoy sends them off to rest.

"You all worked hard. Good job," he chokes out. He's overwhelmed with emotions and he's never been that skilled at complimenting others anyway. They filter out slowly, checking on their patients one last time before retiring to their beds.

Chapel is among the last to leave. She approaches him from behind and places a slim hand on his shoulder. He turns to find her smiling warmly at him, her face covered in green smudges.

"You did a good job yourself, Doctor."

"Well, there's a reason why I'm the CMO, isn't there?"

He knows he sounds arrogant, but he can just blame that on all the time he spends with Jim. Chapel gives him another careful expression before squeezing his shoulder and drifting away like a ghost through the door.

A few more hours pass while McCoy continues to monitor everyone's progress. He's bending over Sulu, fixing a bandage on the helmsman's arm when he hears a shuffle on the bed behind him.

Whipping around suddenly, McCoy sees Kirk blinking at him, his eyes swollen with sleep and pain medication.

"Hiya, Bones," he says with a crooked grin. A more serious expression crosses across his battered face as he looks around, wincing. "How are Spock and Sulu?"

Striding over quickly, the doctor sits in the chair he left beside his captain's bed.

"How you feelin', kid?"

"Eh, I've probably looked better," he answers, glancing at his heavily bandaged body. "Did Uhura see me?"

"Yeah, she came to visit ol' Spock earlier," McCoy says with a chuckle. He's never been so relieved to hear that cocky bastard's damn womanizing talk.

"Shit," Kirk mutters. He shifts under the sheets and McCoy contemplates giving him an extra blanket. Before he can stand up to get one, Kirk lightly grasps his wrist.

"You're not getting up to get a hypospray, are you?" The note of panic in his friend's voice causes the doctor to laugh a bit more. He shakes his head and settles back into his chair.

"Dammit, Jim, tonight I'm your friend, not a doctor."

The night is long since Jim mostly sleeps. Spock and Sulu wake up and McCoy tends to them. A little suffering is good for the soul, but an explosion earns them an extra blanket if they want one. There will be plenty of other times for him to act official, distribute warnings, and stab captains and science officers with hyposprays. He's a doctor, dammit. It's what he does.

* * *

_**His ex-wife calls him Leonard.**_

All she was supposed to take was his name.

But here they are, seven years later and she's taken everything.. The kitchen is silent except for the ticking of the cow clock on the wall that he installed there himself just a few years ago. The windows are open to let in the warm summer air, and the evening Georgia sunlight streams through the windows. Golden light covers everything, including his packed bags by the backdoor.

A long time ago when they both smiled all the time and the songs on the radio made them dance, he thought she was gorgeous even when she cried. But now she's sitting at the kitchen table with red rimmed eyes and he can't for the life of him remember why he ever thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

"I packed everything you'll need," she states, not looking up from the plaid tablecloth in front of her.

"Thanks."

Those damn red eyes glare up at him, frustrated with his sarcasm. He doesn't care. He didn't mean to amuse her. He stopped trying to make her happy months ago when he found her with Clay Treadway.

"Get out, Leonard," she says as though she's given up. That accent used to drive him crazy, the way she drawled out his name as she withered beneath him under the moon in her old man's field behind the barn. Now, he's a little colder and can't understand why he's so mad at her for that damn tone of her voice. She never would have given up before.

The cow clock ticks innocently in the background and all he wants to do is rip it off the wall and smash it on the floor. Instead he speaks, but he can't keep out the growl in his voice.

"Hope you and Clay have fun raising my daughter."

The twisted, pained expression on her pointed face doesn't give him the same feeling of satisfaction that he thought it would.

"She's not yours anymore. Leave, Leonard."

Her words would hurt if he weren't a damn proud McCoy. He only glares and clenches his fist as the venom from her voice seeps through his skin and enters his bloodstream. The strongest poison he's ever known, because it's only seconds before his vision is blurry with anger.

Not another word passes between them as he grabs his bags with those tight fists. He pulls the house keys from his pocket and drops them in the glass bowl on the counter next to the threshold. He's not going to need them off in Starfleet, he thinks as he walks out the storm door. There are smudges on the glass, probably from Joanna, but that's not his problem anymore.

* * *

_**Kirk calls him Bones.**_

"If whatsername was such a hateful bitch, why'd you marry her?"

Kirk never would have asked that question if he hadn't been a little tipsy. It's his first night at Starfleet, and he's sitting on his new stiff mattress across from his new roommate. Doctor Leonard McCoy (Kirk's not allowed to call him Lenny.) sits on the bed on the other side of the room, more drunk than tipsy. As two new cadets recruited at the last minute (Or in McCoy's case, forced into it against his free will at the last minute), they'd been paired together in the dorms. They'd opened their bottles of Romulan Ale to celebrate surviving the shuttle to Starfleet, but the mood soon turned sour.

The doctor is not a happy drunk, Kirk quickly observes. But he's curious about what McCoy had been talking about on the shuttle and maybe his tongue has been loosened with liquor. He's a sucker for people with complicated pasts.

Apparently it is because there's a beat of silence before the older man scowls darkly and takes another swig of the dark, shining liquid.

"She was pregnant, that's why." Either the ale or the emotion is making his voice deeper, and it intrigues Kirk even more. "We were twenty-one."

Kirk watches him swirl his drink around the glass as amber spots reflect on the wall. He raises the glass to his lips, but pulls it away at the last moment to set it down on the tiny table next to his bed.

"It wasn't always so bad. I loved her in the beginning."

Kirk doesn't know it yet, but that is the nicest comment McCoy will ever say about his ex-wife for the next God-knows-how-many years. McCoy slumps further on the bed, his hands on his knees. All Kirk can see is the top of a head with messy dark hair. Careful not to fall over from intoxication, he stands and joins the harsh older man on his bed.

"What was it that you said on the shuttle? She took everything but your bones?"

McCoy nods, his eyes looking at Kirk's nose because Kirk doubts he can find his eyes in his drunken stupor.

"Then she took your name, too."

McCoy wouldn't understand even if he was stone cold sober, so he just keeps staring at Kirk's nose. With a grin a mile wide, he slaps his hand on the doctor's shoulder.

"From now on, you're Bones."

"_Bones_?" He tests it out on his tongue, his face screwing up carefully in an almost adorable fashion. "Oh, God," he mutters, rubbing his scruffy face into the palms of his hands.

But Kirk can hear a bit of a smile under the complaint, and his smile grows even wider. He promises to himself that as long as they're friends (and he predicts that they will be friends for a very long time), he will replace angry memories of whatshername with better, funnier memories. After all, it's not just anyone who shares alcohol on a (potentially) very dangerous shuttle.

"You'll learn to love it."

* * *

_**Uhura calls him Leo.**_

"No."

Women. They could be so damn stubborn sometimes.

"Why not?" He knew he looked like a madman. Other cadets around on the campus were looking at them with looks ranging from amusement to worry.

She stopped her rapid walk down the sidewalk and whipped around sharply. She had stopped so abruptly that McCoy nearly ran into her. With her spine ramrod straight, she stared him down with her hands on her hips.

"Leo, I know you and Kirk love your pranks, but I'm not going to let you into my quarters so you can surprise him and Gaila!"

"Why not?" He repeated, sputtering. His arms flailed around his head erratically, though was very careful to not accidentally smack her in the head with his flying appendages. Surely then, there would be no chance of her ever agreeing.

"Because I know Gaila," she exclaimed as though her association with the Orion explained everything. Which it probably did, but this was a very serious matter! "And I know that anything that goes on in that room should never be seen by other people."

A myriad of pornographic and slightly disturbing images ran rampant in his mind for a moment. He shook his head to focus and placed his hands tightly on Uhura's shoulders.

"But Jim needs his vaccinations," he pleaded. It was pathetic, but he was almost ready to get on his knees and beg. "He's been avoiding me for days now. If he gets sick, he's a germ carrier and then I can get sick. Don't you understand?"

His grip on her shoulders tightened. She raised her eyebrows and shook a little with suppressed laughter.

"Yes, I do understand," she said sincerely as she pried his hands off of her. Then she gave him a stern, almost motherly look. "But he and Gaila are… ugh," she trailed off in disgust. "There are some things you can't unsee, Leo."

"Uhura!"

"Leo!"

Her eyes gleamed in frustration, exasperation etched in her face. Her earrings dangled and bounced against her neck as she shook her head slowly. But the corners of her lips were quirked upwards and her almond shaped eyes shone with humor.

"Oh, fine," he muttered, crossing his arms and looking off towards the small group of cadets who were still observing their very animated argument.

"Okay. Bye, Leo!" she said brightly, practically skipping away.

And just like that, she won.

* * *

_**Joanna calls him Daddy.**_

"Who's the pretty girl?" Kirk asks pointing at the small black picture frame on McCoy's desk.

"She's too young for you," McCoy grunts. Kirk smiles half-heartedly, but doesn't say anything more on the matter. The two men stare at the frame. It holds a picture of a six year old girl with white-blonde curls and lily pad eyes. She wears denim overalls and is being held by someone whose face has been slashed out of the picture.

"She looks like you," Kirk says, peering closer at the picture. McCoy watches warily as Kirk picks up the frame, holding it close to his face to peruse it more closely.

"She looks like her mother. Got her eyes and hair," he grunts, indicating the slashed out face in the corner. He has plenty of pictures of Joanna by herself, but it gives him a rather sick satisfaction to see Jocelyn's face cut out of the picture.

"Nah, Bones, she looks like you," Kirk insists. He shows the picture frame to McCoy as though the doctor hadn't already memorized it. McCoy rolls his eyes but looks as Kirk points to various spots on the smiling, happy face.

"She's got your chin and your nose. And I'll bet she's got your smile, but I don't think I've ever seen you do anything but scowl," Kirk jokes with that teasing grin of his. "She's got her mother's coloring, but she's got your face."

"Does she now? Huh, thought you said she was a pretty girl," McCoy scoffs, grabbing the frame from Kirk's hands. Kirk watches in amusement as he gently places it back on his desk with more tenderness than Kirk has ever seen him display.

"Well, you're a very pretty man, Bones," Kirk says slyly, waiting for his friend to look up before batting his eyelashes at the older man.

"Shut it, kid."

Kirk laughs to himself as he slumps unceremoniously on his bed. McCoy continues to look at the picture, an almost wistful expression on his face.

"How old is your daughter?"

"Joanna's seven now, but she's almost six in that picture," McCoy answers without hesitation.

Kirk raises an eyebrow. McCoy rarely displayed such raw emotion. In a matter of seconds, he realizes that his friend probably hadn't spoken to his daughter since whatsername kicked him out.

"You should contact her."

McCoy turns around to make a counter argument, but Kirk is already slipping into the bathroom. He's either fleeing the scene to escape McCoy's wrath or he's actually being a decent human being for once and is giving him some privacy.

He stares at the frame for a moment longer. He can remember taking that picture. They had gone to a petting zoo because Joanna decided goats were her favorite animal. He and Jocelyn weren't getting along too well at that point, but they loved their daughter even when they couldn't love each other. Joanna had just pet a goat and had been doubled over in joyful laughter. Jocelyn had scooped her up in a tight hug, pressing kisses along her cheek and hairline.

McCoy remembers how he laughed and snapped a picture because they both looked so beautiful. With a deep breath, he moves across the room and sits before the monitor to signal that old farmhouse in Georgia.

If Jocelyn answers the message, he'll hang up. And then kill Jim. It has to be in that order because otherwise Jocelyn will be a witness to the great James T. Kirk's murder, and she'd sell McCoy out in a heartbeat.

His own hearts beats too fast to be even close to a normal rate as the transfer loads on his computer. Reaching over to press the power button, he tries to end the communication before he has to deal with Jocelyn. He's too tired for a fight. He left those behind in Georgia.

But before he can cancel the transfer, a pixilated image appears on the screen. White-blonde curls. Lily pad eyes. His chin, his nose, his smile, his face. His daughter.

"Hello, Daddy."

* * *

_Thank you to all who reviewed the last chapter. Thank you for reading this chapter as well. And hopefully, thank you for reviewing. Let me know which sections you liked! I'd really appreciate it. I will try to update this quickly. Spock is next!_


	3. Commander Spock

_First off, I AM SO SORRY THAT I COULD NOT UPDATE SOONER. My family and I were on vacation and I assumed that since it's 2009, the beach house (which was in a neighborhood built only like two years ago) would have wireless internet connection. Guess what? It didn't. We could have bought internet access, but it would have been $35 per person and that was just a ridiculous price to pay. Obviously, you don't know my family, but we are so friggin' cheap. We've been reusing Christmas paper for years. Seriously, I can't remember the last time I was allowed to just rip wrapping paper off of a present. Anyway, the point is: I had no internet and had no way to update. Again, I apologize._

_However, the good news is that I have plenty of time to write and now I have the next few chapters ready to be uploaded. Hopefully, the next updates will come much faster._

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own Star Trek. I am now penniless from my excursion to the beach, so don't sue because you won't get anything. Although I do now own my favorite chocolate raseberry fudge. Yum! Also, I don't own James Bond (See Kirk's nickname for Spock). Also, I did not create his mother's nickname for him. I borrowed it from **fable69**'s story **Enterprise High** (which is mindblowingly awesome so check it out!)._

* * *

**Commander Spock**

**Carve your names on hearts, not on marble.  
-Charles Spurgeon**

_**Everyone calls him Commander.**_

He received perfect marks in his Starfleet History courses at the Academy during his time as a cadet. Like any other driven student, he knew at least the basics of each previous captain of the Federation. Each of them possessed unique qualities that separated them from each other, distinguishing themselves from an otherwise uniform fashion. One consistency between them all was that, without fail, they had all suffered losses and made sacrifices for the good of their ship and subordinates.

Most notable was Captain George Kirk. Twelve minutes as captain. Saved more than eight hundred lives. During his years of learning and working beside Captain Pike, Spock observed that the older man was often known to recite the man's accomplishments.

Spock knew he would one day go down in history books, and future driven students will learn his name. If by no other fact, he will be distinguished as the only Vulcan to ever gain captaincy.

He will not be known as Captain George Kirk was known. Twelve minutes as captain. Saved more than eight hundred lives. He will not be known as Captain James T. Kirk was known. Within the first day of his captaincy, he saved planet Earth and subsequently the entire Federation.

He, however, will be known as Acting Captain Spock. Five and a half hours as captain. An entire planet imploded. Over six billion Vulcan inhabitants dead. His mother dead.

So he submitted his candidacy for First Officer. Commanders are not remembered by as many students as captains are remembered, but no matter. He felt that, given his past experience with captaincy, it was logical for him to remain the Commander.

* * *

_**Kirk calls him Mr. Spock.**_

_Tap, tap, tap._

"I believe it is your move, Captain."

Finger scratches chin.

"Well, _yeah_. You just moved. It's only logical that I would be next."

Slanted eyebrow rises.

"Mocking my culture will not help you gain a victory."

_Tap, tap, tap._

"Oh, I see now."

Dark eyes scan the three boards.

"Have you finally decided on a move?"

Hand removes from chin to adjust a single piece on the middle board.

"Checkmate."

Self-satisfied grin meets a harsh, straight line.

"Do you expect me to be impressed?"

Arms cross against gold chest.

"No, Mr. Spock. I expect you to lose."

* * *

_**Uhura calls him mpenzi.**_

Silence fills the air around them, but the quiet is not unwelcome. Spock grades papers meticulously, his eyes scanning over each translated word, easily detecting the translation and grammatical errors.

Nyota sits beside him with a similar task in front of her. Her pile is significantly smaller than his, and she quickly finishes her own corrections before handing the pile to him for further inspection.

The outside bell chimes five times, signaling the evening's hour. They both know that it is time for her to go, and since she finished her work, there is no reason for her to stay any longer. However, even with this knowledge, Spock feels no surprise when she continues to sit beside him.

He can feel her eyes on his form despite his concentration on grading the assignments of her fellow cadets. But he is a Vulcan of many talents and is completely capable of grading papers with only the use of one hand.

His left hand extends towards hers, and he can sense her smile as she takes it in her own, much darker hands. He does not look up from his work, but can feel his attentions wander from the conjugated verbs on the paper.

Nyota traces her slim fingers over and across the palm of his hand, drawing mindless symbols. Her touch on his continues to distract him in a most pleasurable way until Spock can no longer focus on the words before him.

He turns his head slightly to the side to see her eyes burning into his skin. He watches her as her eyes follow her dancing fingers, and it is clear to him that there is meaning behind her movements.

She glances up to see him carefully observing and a warm smile spreads across her countenance. Her sparkling eyes never leave his as she deliberately drags her finger against his palm. His quick mind creates an outline of her shape, trying to match its likeness to a familiar symbol.

"M?" He questions. Her nod reassures him, and she continues with her next letter.

Soon, he has managed to recognize each letter she traces until she stops her drawings and merely holds his hand within her own.

"M-p-e-n-z-i?"

She nods again, her eyes gleaming with what he identifies as happiness and something akin to barely concealed excitement.

"I apologize, Nyota, but I'm afraid I don't know the word or language it comes from," he admits, ready for her to assume the role of teacher and him as student.

"Mpenzi," she breathes, and he can feel his skin prickle under her intense gaze as he tries to decipher the emotion behind the single, beautiful word. "It's Swahili for _Beloved_."

_

* * *

_

_**McCoy calls him hob goblin.**_

The purple flower beneath his gloved fingers leaned away from his warm touch, creating an unforeseen difficulty in obtaining the flora in order to examine its properties. Spock examined the panting petals for a moment before Doctor McCoy rolled his eyes and reached over to pull the flower from the ground without a moment's hesitation.

Spock raised an eyebrow but remained silent. The doctor's methods may have been uncultured, but they are nonetheless effective. The flower was placed inside an airtight container to preserve its life until they could beam back to the Enterprise.

The blue-clad pair walked further though the lush orange grass of the planet's surface, looking for more flora to collect. The silence wears thin between them, and Spock felt reminded of his older counterpart's suggestions to establish firm friendships with Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy.

In an effort to create such a relationship, Spock had earlier offered to accompany the doctor on his search for plant life. McCoy had grunted, but said nothing to prohibit the company. An hour later, they spoke little but had gathered several plants McCoy believed may hold medical properties.

A buzz from McCoy's communicator indicated that the captain sought their location. McCoy barked their location into the small communicator before snapping it shut.

"See you soon, Bones!"

Kirk's parting words caught Spock's attention. He had often heard his captain refer to the CMO as _Bones_, but was unaware of the meaning.

"May I inquire about a personal matter?" He asked the doctor who gruffly nodded in response. "Why does Jim call you Bones? I'm afraid I do not understand the connection between that and your given name."

McCoy looked up with exasperation plainly etched onto his skin.

"Because he's an idiot."

"I see."

They continued shifting patches of thick grass aside to look for mushrooms or odd weeds. Spock anticipated Kirk's arrival to break the terse atmosphere. Despite his older self's assurance that McCoy had been a close friend of his in the other timeline, Spock could not fathom how they would ever breach their cultural and personal differences.

"I don't know much about Vulcan culture. I only know your people's physiology," McCoy began abruptly, his voice somewhat kinder than previously. "Anyway, I don't know your marriage traditions. But if you can avoid it, don't get married."

He looked over at Spock with hardened eyes and a set mouth, perhaps provoked by Spock's earlier question. His expression contained its normal annoyance, but for once it did not seem to be aimed at Spock.

"You are a fascinating specimen, Doctor McCoy," Spock told him, privately amused by the doctor's attempt at conversation and friendly advice.

"Shut it, you hobgoblin."

Kirk's footsteps cut off any response Spock may have had for the doctor's prejudiced comment. They both turned to see their captain approach, each raising an eyebrow at the sight of a ripped gold shirt. Honestly, Jim had only been on the planet for fifteen minutes at most. How could he have subjected another shirt to such a demise?

"Fascinating specimen? Hobgoblin?" He questioned his two friends, peering amusedly into their faces. "Did I interrupt a moment between you two?"

His sly look earned him a scoff of disgust and a pair of pursed lips.

It was a most peculiar feeling, but for the first time, Spock felt as though perhaps there was hope for his alleged friendships.

_

* * *

_

**His mother called him Sprocket.**

Even Vulcans need sleep after hard labor and extremely emotional experiences. After the events on the Enterprise, Spock slept for a full day before finally rousing from his old quarters at Starfleet.

His body felt stiff with restlessness and his mind was sluggish as if drugged, but he could not remember taking any narcotics. Though, his memory after returning to Earth was fairly hazy, and Dr. McCoy had been what humans would deem "hypospray-happy."

He stood from the bed to stretch his long legs, shutting his eyes tightly to dissuade the headache forming in his temples. His sleep had been naught but calming and had been filled with terrifying images of Vulcan's last moments. Of his mother.

Whether his legs gave way due to lingering stiffness or emotional turmoil, he did not know. But he found himself sitting on the bed, much closer to the floor than before. His mother's face filled his mind's inner eye, and he clung to it, terrified he would someday forget her image.

Kirk had asked him repeatedly how he felt, if he needed anything. Nyota was just as concerned, but knew enough to give him the desired space he needed. Though, before allowing him to remain in his quarters undisturbed, she gave him a concentrated stare and asked if he had any regrets.

He merely kissed her forehead in an unusual display of compassion and reminded her that she needed sleep as much as he did.

She left him alone, and for that he was most thankful. Most people would have expected him to lament the fact he had never told his mother that he loved her. But no, that was selfish. It was selfish to regret something that would have benefitted him as much as his mother.

The answer he could not give to Nyota lay beside his mental image of his mother. He regretted never allowing her to fix his sweater, despite how unnecessary it was. He regretted ignoring her onscreen communications in favor of working on assignments. He regretted never returning her many hugs.

He regretted showing his disdain when she called him _Sprocket_.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading. Also, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, alerted, favorited, or lurked this story. It's all appreciated. :) And it's especially appreciated that you have had patience with me while I was away from the internet and was unable to update._

_Please review! Let me know what you think! Let me know what you liked or didn't like. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them. I'll be updating soon with Uhura's chapter._


	4. Lieutenant Nyota Uhura

_To be honest, I'm not too thrilled with how this chapter came out. I think the other chapters were stronger. Hopefully, you lovely readers will enjoy it regardless._

_**Disclaimer**: I do not own Star Trek. Also, I do not own the dialogue used in_ Lieutenant_. That was taken (albeit, abridged) from the novelization of the movie._

**

* * *

**

**Lieutenant Nyota Uhura**

**Names, once they are in common use, quickly become mere sounds,  
their etymology being buried, like so many of the earth's marvels,  
beneath the dust of habit.  
-Salman Rushdie**

_**Everyone calls her Lieutenant.**_

She wasn't supposed to be on the Enterprise.

"_Was I not one of your top students?"_

"_Indeed you were."_

"_And did I not, on multiple occasions, make it clear that my dream and the reasons behind four years of hard work was to serve on the Enterprise?"_

"_Vociferously and repeatedly, perhaps even to the point of obsession. Your ability to communicate in that regard was the equal of any of your classroom efforts."_

"_And yet I was assigned to the Farragut?"_

"_I was simply trying to avoid the appearance of favoritism."_

"_I'm on the Enterprise."_

"_Yes, I believe you are."_

She wasn't even supposed to be on the Bridge.

"_What about you? Can you speak Romulan, Cadet…"_

"_Uhura. All three dialects, sir."_

"…_Uhura, relieve the lieutenant."_

"_Yes, sir."_

When the Enterprise dropped out of warp, debris littered the dark space, suspended ghostly in a standstill manner. The obliteration had been so thorough that none of the floating pieces could be distinguished from one another. It was childish to think so, but Uhura could not help but feel as though every piece had been blasted from the Farragut.

She wasn't supposed to be alive. But she_ was._

Even months after the tragedy, she acted with a sense of professionalism unparallel to anyone else. She threw herself into her translations and transmissions, working later hours than nearly anyone on the ship, on the Bridge. Unlike her co-workers and friends, she did not bring food to the Bridge for fear of crumbs settling under her keyboard. She refused to allow herself even a glance at Spock, too focused on watching her screen for any new transmissions.

She had worked her entire life to be in space, had aspired to be on the Enterprise for years, and had narrowly escaped death to do so. She had no choice but to work hard enough to convince herself that she was _worth_ the saving.

* * *

_**Kirk calls her Betsy-Lou.**_

"Hey, Mary!"

Uhura cringed, hearing Kirk before she saw him. He came up behind her at the desk she sat at, and his grinning face filled her vision.

Uhura said nothing.

"Okay, it's not Mary then. That's too common anyway. And you are clearly not a common woman," Kirk flirted annoyingly. He paused for a moment, thinking, before carrying on annoyingly. "Anastasia? Like the princess? You look like you could be royalty." His voice adopted a silky tone, one he clearly thought to be seductive.

Uhura said nothing. Seriously, why would she be named after a Russian princess?

"No? Alright. Juliet! Isn't that who all girls want to be? The most famous of all females! And reportedly, the most lovely as well." His eyebrows waggled.

Uhura said nothing. Not all girls want to be the fourteen year-old silly girl who kills herself unnecessarily for some boy who claims to love her.

"Too English? Too Shakespearian?" Kirk questioned, although even he by now knew she wasn't going to answer. "Something African then. Is your name Penda? It means _loved_, I looked it up." He spoke like a five year old who just learned how to read a new word and wants attention for his success.

Uhura said nothing. And actually, it means _beloved_. So he is, once again, wrong.

Silence followed for a few moments before he leaned in closer to her cheek, his breath hot against her skin.

"Rumpelstiltskin?"

Uhura said nothing, but spared him her most dangerous glare.

"No, too long," Kirk remarked, clearly unfazed by her deathly glower. "Well, Betsy-Lou, I'm never gonna give up until you tell me. And eventually, I always get what I want." His face was still too close to hers as she finally whipped around to stare at him.

"Oh, my God, Kirk! Betsy-Lou? Really?" She was going to kill him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a reaction!" Kirk threw his arms up victoriously, a cocky grin annoying spread across his face. His blue eyes sparkled as he winked at her.

"Until next time, Betsy-Lou," he drawled, drawing out the vowels.

Uhura said nothing.

* * *

_**Chekov calls her zolotoi.**_

She spoke Orion with Gaila.

She spoke Vulcan with Spock.

She spoke French with Christine Chapel.

The best way to learn a language is to speak with a native. They teach the proper pronunciation, the inflection, and the subtle nuances between dialogues. It was a common practice for Uhura to seek out others who were bi- or trilingual in order to further her own xenolinguistic knowledge.

Ensign Chekov was more than happy to oblige, often indulging her in everyday conversation while speaking in fluid Russian. Uhura quickly found him to be cheerful and engaging, and their conversations soon expanded beyond Russian-based topics. They shared opinions and stories from their childhood. She would tell him the latest gossip she had heard from Christine as he rolled his eyes at her girlishness.

When she learned that his sisters called him _lapochka_, she laughed gleefully and immediately began addressing him as such regardless of his halfhearted pleas for her to desist. The nickname soon lost its teasing quality and became one of genuine affection.

In return, he began to call her _zolotoi_. Unsure of its exact meaning in his native dialect, she asked him to translate. His grin brightened as he brushed her comment aside, telling her it meant _friend_.

But something in his wide eyes made her suspicious, though she could not put a finger on it. Had his face tightened when she asked the meaning? Had he licked his upper lip just to moisten it or out of a nervous habit? Was that relief flickering across his face when she wordlessly accepted his translation? Months with Spock had taught her to catch shifting degrees of expression.

Searching through her computer's database, she soon realized that _friend_ was not its proper translation. _Zolotoi_ meant _precious_, and when directly translated, _gold_. More than a term of endearment between friends, it was meant for someone whom one cared for deeply.

* * *

_**Scotty calls her lass.**_

He had dirt under his fingernails. It was the twenty-third century and they were in space. How could he possibly have dirt under his fingernails?

This was not a mark against his character, something that warned her against him. She had never been a girly-girl and was not at all offended or appalled. If anything, it greatly interested her. Uhura would glance down at her own nails: long, tapered, manicured with black nail polish.

When he caught her looking too closely at his hand one time, she did not respond with embarrassment, nor did he respond defensively. She only asked him how on Earth he could have dirt under his nails when they hadn't had shore leave in weeks.

"Well, o' course there's dirt, lass," he exclaimed amusedly. "Been workin' on th' Enterprise. She's been havin' a bit o' ah problem. Her pipes were greasy, and ah had to handle all those slippery bits me self."

If Kirk had ever spoken that way, she would have smacked him in honor of all womankind. But Scotty was sincere, and there was something highly endearing about his dedication to the ship. She can understand that sort of adoration and devotion for the Enterprise.

After that, Scotty and Uhura bonded over their shared (almost borderline obsessive) love for the Enterprise. He even taught her the basics of repairing minor problems in the tubes until she had the same amount of dirt and grease under her own painted nails.

"Aye, lass, you got ah bit o' smudge there," he informed her, tossing over a spare semi-clean cloth. She wiped away gently at the line of dirty that she had trailed across.

"Thanks, Monty," she told him warmly. "You know, my friends call me Uhura."

"Ah, no," he said without moving away from the pipes laid out before him. "You're ah lady. An' ladies are lasses."

He did not look away from the Enterprise's Jefferies tubes to see the happy smile that quickly spread across her still dirt-smudged face.

* * *

_**Her family calls her Nyota. Spock calls her Nyota.**_

Nyota. Star.

Considering her life passion, it was a fitting name. Such a shame that she hated it.

Begrudgingly, she allowed her parents to call her Nyota. They were, after all, her parents and in charge of whether or not she could eat dessert after dinner. Her family could call her Nyota, but that was it.

It was bland. She knew at least four Nyotas off the top of her head. Yes, it had a pretty meaning, but it was just so cliché.

That all changed when she met Spock. She had dreams that his deep voice could even make her name sound _special_.

They sat in their prospective seats in his office. He, by the computer. She, by the window. His deep voice resonated through the room, she could hear his vibrations against her skin, thrumming against her heart.

"Spock?" she asked suddenly without any professional pretext. She did not face him, but could feel his eyes on her back, imagined one eyebrow raised in confusion. If he were to comply, she did not want a visual imprint. Just an aural imprint.

"Yes, Uhura?"

"Could you do me a favor? Could you say _Nyota_?"

"My apologies, but I do not know what it means.

"It's just my name."

He paused. She worried. But then, his voice broke across the limited space between them.

"Nyota."

Deep. Smooth as silk. Filled the air. Warmed the air. Her eyes closed in contentment. Perhaps she suffered from an overactive imagination, but had there been a trace of tenderness? Of caring?

"Please continue to use my first name, Spock."

"If you insist, Nyota."

She turned around just in time to see his lips move familiarly, lithely over the syllables. Special. Finally.

* * *

_Penda, mentioned in Kirk's section, was one of the names that fans guessed was Uhura's name before the 2009 movie came out and canonized Nyota as Uhura's first name. According to babynames dot com, it means beloved._

_I meant to put this in the previous chapter, but if anyone notices any translation errors (mpenzi, zolotoi, etc.), please let me know. I've researched, but you can never be too sure._

_Anyway, thank you all so much for reading. Your reviews, alerts, and favorites are really encouraging! That being said, please review! Let me know what you liked or didn't like! Chekov's chapter is next. I'll probably post within the next day or two._


	5. Ensign Pavel Andreyevich Chekov

_Okay, this one was so much fun to write. Chekov's just so damn cute. (shamlessly plugging: please read my story_ Damn Cute_ if you haven't already!) Just a note, the last segment was highly influenced by_ Wolf at the Table _by Augusten Burroughs. It's an amazing memior by an amazing author about his father. (He also wrote Running with Scissors, Dry, Magical Thinking, and several other amazing books.) I gave Chekov a happier ending, but it was still influenced by Augusten._

_**Disclaimer**: I own nothing except for this super cool Snape shirt that I'm wearing tonight for the HPHalfbloodprince premiere!_

* * *

**Ensign Pavel Andreyevich Chekov**

**What's in a name? That which we call a rose  
By any other name would smell as sweet.  
-William Shakespeare (_Romeo and Juliet)_**

_**Everyone calls him Ensign.**_

"Nice work, Cadet," Pike intoned, glancing over the mathematical equations and theories from the paper Chekov just turned in.

"Zank you, sir," he answered, bobbing his head up and down respectfully.

"You know," the captain said slowly, looking up to meet Chekov's eyes, "you should consider applying for cartographer. There are plenty of positions still open."

Weeks later, Chekov receives the message that he has been chosen to be a cartographer. Not just a cartographer, but an ensign cartographer _on the Bridge_. Not just an ensign cartographer on the Bridge, but an ensign cartographer _on the Bridge of the Enterprise_.

He's seventeen. He should be getting ready for the prom, not packing up for space.

As far as he knows, no one else has ever received this sort of honor. For months, he introduces himself as Ensign Pavel Andreyevich Chekov with an obvious note of pride. If anyone else finds that pompous or annoying, he does not care in the slightest. He's not about to let this accomplishment disappear.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Kirk calls him Whiz Kid.**_

"So yes, I guess you could say that I am wery talented." Chekov nodded modestly as the pretty blonde girl from Engineering gave a bubbly giggle.

"Oh, Chekov, I can't believe you saved the Captain and Sulu so quickly! You just raced through the halls to get to the controls?"

"Yes, yes. Zey were wery fortunate, no?"

She gave another giggle and nodded energetically so that her hair danced around her shoulders. One slim hand had grabbed hold in his arm in excitement as he told her about Kirk and Sulu almost falling to their deaths on Vulcan.

"Hey there, Whiz Kid!"

Chekov groaned internally as he turned to see the Captain strutting down the hallway. The pretty blonde gave an excited wave which he returned with a wink.

"Whiz Kid?" she questioned, looking back at Chekov.

"Oh yeah, it's his nickname on the Bridge!" Kirk explained, cutting in before Chekov could deny anything.

The girl's eyes widened and her mouth dropped in a silent "aw."

"That's so cute!" she exclaimed. Her hand moved from his arm to tousle his curls. It was then that Chekov knew he would not be getting a date.

_Damn_, Chekov thought to himself. He watched the blonde walk off with Kirk as he took over regaling her with tales of bravery and action. Unsurprisingly, none of them involved a young Russian whiz kid.

* * *

_**Uhura calls him lapochka.**_

"Knock, knock."

Chekov looked up to see Uhura standing in the open doorway to his quarters. He took a moment to appreciate how she had let her hair down from its ponytail to fall in waves around her face.

"Uhura, come in," he greeted as he indicated to the monitor in front of him. "I em only finishing a letter from my sister, Keesa."

"A letter?" she questioned with interest, taking a seat on his bed. "Not a transmission?"

In the day and era, it was uncommon for letters to be written. It took up precious time when so many other important things needed to be finished. Also, if transmission existed, why do something more time-consuming and difficult? Speaking into a video was much faster and time-efficient.

Chekov could see the bemusement on her features and chuckled before explaining.

"She is five and learning how to write. Maman thought eet vould be good practice."

"Your sister is five?" Uhura seemed to perk up on the bed. Her inquisitive smile encouraged him to elaborate.

"Da," he nodded, "she is the youngest. Vova is fourteen, Faina is elewen, Liubov is eight, Glafira is six, and Keesa is ze last one." He ticked off each sister on one of his long fingers, looking up at the ceiling as though going through a long list of memorized items.

"Oh, wow," she finally responded. Chekov looked over to see her pretty mouth parted slightly in surprise and her eyebrows dangerously close to her hairline.

"Eet is not so bad," he reassured her. "Eet is nice to haf so many people to care for and haf them care for you." He stared at the typed message in front of him, no longer comprehending the words. "I miss them."

He hadn't meant to say that last bit. He hadn't even realized just how much he missed them until he finally said those words aloud. Giving a tiny cough to recompose himself, he wondered if Uhura had heard him. Surely his softly uttered words would make him appear to her like a small child.

Her hand extended from the bed to gently stroke his curls and he abruptly stood from his chair.

"Vould you like to see ze letter?" he asked to change the subject, gesturing to the newly vacated seat. "See if you can translate eet. I vant to know how your Russian is coming along."

She nodded, and they switched positions so that she could read the letter and he could watch her silently from his bed. He smiled to himself as he watched her face glow with amusement at Keesa's commentary on what she and her imaginary friend, Captain Kirk, had eaten for breakfast that morning. Occasionally, she would ask Chekov for assistance and he would have to explain that Keesa had just misspelled a word or had used the wrong tense.

After a few minutes with a delighted smile still plastered across her face, she pushed away from the table to face Chekov.

"Your sister sounds adorable."

Chekov nodded, his heart swelling with pride for Keesa. He would never admit it, but he missed her the most of all his sisters. She was the one who contacted him the most, who loved to listen to his stories about his life aboard the Enterprise. Her imaginary friends consisted of the people Chekov told her about in his transmissions. Captain Kirk was her favorite, but something about Spock's pointy ears greatly intrigued her.

"What does _lapochka_ mean?" Uhura asked, breaking Chekov from his thoughts. She pointed to the screen at the word in question.

"Oh, eet is a nickname," he told her, without even looking at the screen.

"It's cute."

"Eh," he shrugged.

Uhura looked at him for a moment before glancing back at the screen and shut off the message. He watched at her slender body moved fluidly as she rose from his chair to face him.

"Well, lapochka," she started with a mischievous grin, "I came to see if you wanted to get some dessert with me and Monty." She continued to smile trickily, her eyes searching his face to try to gauge his reaction.

"You're not going to start calling me _lapochka_, are you?" He stared precariously, slowly standing up from his bed to bring himself eye to eye with the beautiful, grinning monster.

"Does it bother you?" Her face dropped the smile in favor for a mock-innocent look. She blinked her almond eyes at him, her mouth puckered slightly.

"Da," he nodded, feeling the corners of his mouth perk up, knowing his response meant nothing to her. She would do as she pleased.

"Then of course I am," she answered with rapid fire. The evil grin fully blossomed on her face and her eyes seemed to dance with glee. "Lapochka."

The overly annunciated word permeated the air as she darted out of his room with him close behind her. Chekov rolled his eyes at her, but secretly enjoyed her new joke, loving the attention she gave him.

* * *

_**Sulu calls him Pasha.**_

Graveyard shift should have meant boredom. Drawn out hours. Darkly lit rooms. Loneliness. Heavy eyelids. Thick silence.

But they had a bad reputation, were defined incorrectly. For Chekov, the graveyard shift was preferred. To him, it meant comfortable stillness. Soft silence. Calm. Atmospheric lights in the Bridge. A wide eyed sense of wakefulness experienced at no other time of day.

A major contribution to that was the company in the room. Most graveyard shifts are spent alone. But Captain Kirk, who seemed incapable of ever being by himself, insisted that graveyard shifts be managed in pairs.

Chekov often found himself paired with Sulu.

An easy friendship formed between the two of them. They never spoke much, kept concentrated on their work. Occasionally, they would share small talk, but never needed conversation to ease themselves into each other's company.

Conversations consisted of short words and phrases, small sign language that Chekov did not cognitively understand. Lopsided smiles. Quirked eyebrows. What did they _mean_? But his mind and body worked faster than his social etiquette, and somehow, together, they always managed to answer Sulu's grins.

Chekov could not pinpoint the day when they ceased to be _Chekov_ and _Sulu_. The nicknames snuck up stealthily on him like the familiar sign language they had developed. Now they were _Pasha_ and _Karu_. But only during the graveyard shift. That was their time.

The nights normally blended insignificantly in Chekov's mind. Space had plenty of times to be highly entertaining, but three in the morning lacked the glimmer that three in the afternoon provided. The nights wore on, smeared together in a messy stroke.

But one night was slightly different.

Uhura had the shift before his began, and he arrived a few minutes early. He was surprised to see Sulu already sat at his post and Uhura stood by hers, signing off the last few programs running on her screens.

He tried to speak with her, but she could only smile sweetly and apologize. She was meeting Spock. He was expecting her. She was already running late. She had to go. Sorry.

Shoulders slumped, he moved to his leather seat in front of the large window. The night wore on.

Sulu recorded coordinates. Chekov ran equations. The hours pressed on slowly for once. Chekov glanced over to his friend, wondering why the sign language was abandoned for the night.

An hour into graveyard shift, Sulu spoke.

"Why Uhura?"

The fact that Sulu literally spoke, not just wordlessly gestured with his eyebrows or hands was enough to make Chekov stare openly. Sulu continued to glare at his screens, his voice at an even and slightly cold tone. It was atypical. To say the least.

"I don't know." Inexplicably, his reasons escaped him.

Sulu finally turned to meet Chekov's eyes. Had they always been that shade of brown? Dim lights. Soft silence. Heavy eyelids. The precipice of loneliness. Or was that the precipice of something _more_?

"You can do better, Pasha."

* * *

_**His father calls him Pavel.**_

He had few fond memories of his father from his childhood. Not that his father had ever been a terrible man, he had only lived on the periphery of Chekov's memory. His days were spent working long hours to provide for the family and weekends were spent on repairs around the house.

With more and more sisters born into the family, his father seemed further away. When he grew older, their conversations diminished into simple reprimands across the dinner table.

"_Do not run in the halls, Pavel. You could knock something over."_

"_Help your mother with the laundry. She can't be expected to do everything herself."_

"_Pavel, help Vova with her math homework. You were blessed with brains. They mean nothing if you don't share them."_

When he left for Starfleet, there were hugs and promises that he would update them at least once a week on his progresses from his mother. His sisters cried, especially Glafira and Liubov. They had been the youngest, aside from Keesa who was too tiny to understand. He gave them teary kisses and tickled their little-girl bellies despite their indignant squeals of _"Lapochka! Stop it!"_

His father was less emotional, though he did offer to drive him to the shuttle that would take him to the Academy. Chekov stood outside the shuttle, his bags already taken into cargo.

Father and son shook hands as he gave his last commands.

"Study hard."

Their hands fell back to their sides and Chekov made his way onto the shuttle. Before he disappeared from the doorframe, his father yelled out to him. He turned to see the older man smile gently.

"Take care, Pavel."

* * *

_Since I did not mention it in the previous chapter,_ lapochka _is a Russian term of endearment that means_ dear _or_ darling_. When directly translated, it means_ little paw_. All of his sisters' names came from babynamesdotcom and are translated:_

_Vova - famous rule  
__Faina - shining  
__Liubov - love  
__Glafira - smooth  
__Keesa - kitten (Isn't that just adorable?)_

Pavel _and_ Pasha _both mean_ small_. ...Poor Chekov, he never had a chance._

_Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it. Please review! Sulu's chapter will be posted next, probably in a few days. And if anyone has any suggestions for nicknames for Scotty, I'd love to hear them. I need one or two more for him._


	6. Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu

_Gah. I apologize for the wait. One, I had so much trouble writing Kirk's section. I knew what I wanted to convey, I just wasn't sure how to write it. Two, I had the Blue Screen of Death over the weekend and lost everything. I had to redo all the downloads and everything and make recovery disks. It took a few days. Anyway, I finally have the chapter for you. And if I do say so myself, I really love how this one came out._

_Sulu is a difficult character to write about. From what I can tell, he doesn't have the most definitive personality from either the movie or the original series. There were a lot of blanks that I had to fill in. In the end, I created a character that is a mix of George Takei!Sulu, John Cho!Sulu, myself, and a fourth unknown person. My sister believes he is ADHD, but really, he's not just not content to stay in his hometown forever. He dreamed that he was destined for something better. lol Pike wouldn't need to convince him in a bar._

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own Star Trek. I own sixteen recovery disks for my computer though. Good news for the next time it decides to crash._

* * *

**Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu**

**Our names are labels, plainly printed on the bottled essence of our past behavior.  
-Logan Pearsall Smith**

_**Everyone calls him Helmsman.**_

He's never really belonged anywhere before. He was never an outcast, but he just never really found that one spot in his life where he didn't feel like he was contorting to fit into the space he was given.

But the seat in the Enterprise molds to his body. And it's selfish to say, but he feels like the others in the room were _destined_ to know him because how else could that sort of instantaneous friendship be possible?

Without a single doubt in his mind, there's no better feeling in the world than flying the Enterprise. She moves gracefully under his touch, maneuvers past asteroid belts with ease. He's convinced that she responds to his thoughts than to his controls. Every time he pushes her into warp, he literally feels a tremor go through his body and he knows, _he knows_ that he's supposed to be a pilot.

The Enterprise finally docks back on Earth. Nero is defeated, Vulcan is gone. His heart goes out to the Vulcans, especially Spock, because no one should ever face a tragedy like that. But when he talks to his sister to reassure her that he's alright, he can't keep the proud smile off his face when he tells her about how he managed, with Scotty's help, to pull the Enterprise out of the pull of the Narada's black hole.

Then he advises her to try sky diving because it's just so much fun and ends the transmission.

* * *

_**His parents call him Hikaru.**_

He's never been too happy in one place for long. Things grew very boring very quickly. There's only so much to see in a town before everything looks gray and nothing seems interesting any more.

He was surrounded by the same people who had known him since he was five and it's really just not fun repeating the same stories over and over again. Everyone in town has been living there for generations and everyone just assumes that he will take up his father's trade like every other son does.

Imagine everyone's surprise when he announces at the dinner table that he's going to Starfleet and he's already been accepted so there's nothing anyone can do about it. His sister hugs him and wishes him luck because at least she understands, even if no one else does. But his mother and father just stare at him in disgusted wonder.

The argument goes on for hours, but he's firm in his stance. He's going to Starfleet Academy. He wants to be a pilot or an engineer or maybe even captain someday. He could do it, he knows he can. In space, there's something to do and see, and he'd never be in the same place twice because they always travel in warp. At least, that's what the Starfleet pamphlet says.

But his mother still cries out his name, _HikaruHikaruHikaru_, as though her mantra will change his mind. And it nearly does, because he can hear her love in every syllable. His father annunciates each syllable as well, but with fury in his tone instead.

He knows he messed up the plan. He was supposed to be the local botanist. He was supposed to grow flowers in a greenhouse and teach their qualities to high school students like his father before him. And the prettier plants with colorful petals, he was supposed to plant them for his sister who would take over her mother's flower store.

But the plan has changed and he's on his way to Starfleet with only a good bye from his sister. The ride is long, but he can't fall asleep because _HikaruHikaruHikaru_ repeats in his head in alternating tones of sadness and anger.

* * *

_**His sister calls him Ru-ru.**_

Anzu contacts him once a month, sometimes every other month because she's rather forgetful. But he always receives her transmissions no matter how busy he might be. They chat for about an hour because he gets antsy if he sits for too long.

She tells him about her latest boyfriend and he swears that he'll warp back to Earth if this new suitor even thinks about breaking her heart. He tells her about the new planets they find and how he dodged an asteroid. Neither of them mention their parents, but he always assures her that he's healthy and happy if she decides to pass it to their mother.

The Enterprise is flying past a giant star so it's an especially bright day when Scotty knocks on the door. Hikaru tells him to enter and introduces the Scotsman to his sister. They exchange pleasantries and she tells him his accent is adorable. The siblings share an amused laugh over Scotty's blush, but then Hikaru has to say good bye because Scotty needs his help in the engineering room.

"Aw, so soon?" Anzu asks with a pout, just like she asks every month. He nods and she gives an exaggerated sigh. "Well, all right. If you insist. Talk to you later, Ru-ru! Love ya!"

Her image fades away and now the blush is on Hikaru's face. Scotty doesn't say a word until they're halfway to engineering.

"Younger sister?"

"Older."

"Single?"

"Taken."

"Ru-ru?

"Shut up."

* * *

_**Chekov calls him Karu.**_

It started out with a comment about Russia, but quickly turned into one of their playful arguments.

"Vell, at least I newer forgot to disengage the external inertial dampner," Chekov says. His words sound haughty, but his pink mouth quirks in a smile.

"Wiktor, wiktor," Hikaru deadpans with a sly look in his eye.

"Ya two sound like an ol' married couple," Scotty jokes before Chekov can retort.

Chekov blushes, but Hikaru just laughs and hopes no one can hear how wistful he sounds.

x

It's two in the morning and the graveyard shift is his favorite time of the day because there's only space, him, and Pasha. He's _Chekov_ when they're around others, but he's _Pasha_ when they're alone.

Their usual silence is comforting, but when Pasha's hesitant voice breaks the silence, it is not at all unwelcome.

"I am sorry for vhat I said earlier. You are a fine helmsman."

Hikaru turns to see bashful gray eyes and pursed lips.

"And I'm sorry for making fun of your accent," he returns with a grin.

"Eh, you're not the first to do so," Pasha says with a roll of his eyes. He smiles at Hikaru before they both return to their work.

Contented silence washes over them once more before Hikaru speaks softly.

"Thank you, Pasha."

Pasha answers just as discretely.

"You're welcome, Karu."

* * *

_**Kirk calls him Pirate.**_

Hikaru knew he'd never be friends with Kirk like McCoy was friends with him. Or like Spock was friends with him. There was a depth to those friendships that went beyond anything he had ever witnessed before.

But on their own more basic level, there was a definite note of solid friendship between himself and the captain. There are some things in life that people go through and they can't help but be friends afterwards. Jumping off the edge of the world to save someone only to find that the parachutes are gone and wow, the ground is coming up to greet them pretty quickly… That constitutes friendship.

So two weeks into their five year journey to space, Hikaru sat in the captain's quarters across from the grinning blue-eyed man.

"Why, Jim?" Sulu asked, unable to keep the proud and excited smile from his face. Kirk had just informed him that in the event that he and Spock were unable to take command, Sulu was to assume captaincy.

"Well, if anyone official asks," Kirk started with a mock-reproachful tone, "it's because you have, on multiple occasions, shown yourself capable of command. You demonstrate a great understanding for the ship and her many capabilities. You have a level head and a clear mind."

Then he stood up, Sulu following his lead. Kirk gave him a steady stare with a shining gleam in his eye. All over his face was a look that plainly read, _Because I'm Captain James T. Kirk and I don't just save anyone's life. If I saved your life, it's because I knew that you were worth it._

Sulu was already halfway through the door when Kirk's play-serious tone floated out to him.

"But really, it's because you're a pirate."

* * *

_Wow. Shortest chapter yet... Once again, I was on babynamesdotcom and I looked up various Japanese names before settling on_ Anzu _for his sister's name. It means_ apricot_. Cute, isn't it?_

_Did you enjoy it? Please review and let me know what parts were your favorites! I want to know what you think. Scotty's chapter is next and I could definitely use some suggestions for nicknames for him. Thanks for reading!_


	7. Engineer Montgomery Scott

_LAST CHAPTER! I'm going to miss this... It was fun while it lasted. I hope you all have enoyed it, too. Anyway, here's Scotty's chapter. He's a fun character to write._

_**Dedication**: This is for **WinchesterSmile**. I used her nickname "Scotch Tape" for one of his segments._

_**Disclaimer**: Star Trek's not mine. I'm just borrowing it. Also,_ _**Glynnis**_ _is not an original character of mine. She's from_ TOS comic: Retrospect_. Which is the saddest thing ever. I wanted to cry. Anyway, I stole her character from the comics and tweaked the circumstances a little for the fic. Because, hey, alternate universe is alternate. Anyway, I like to think that "_You are My Sunshine_" is their song. I might expand their relationship in another story. We'll see..._

* * *

**Engineer Montgomery Scott**

**The name we give to something shapes our attitude to it.  
–Katherine Patterson**

_**Everyone calls him the best damn engineer.**_

The first thing Scotty learns about the _Enterprise_ is that dreams really do come true. Such beauty really does exist in the world.

The second thing Scotty learns about the _Enterprise_ is that the captain enjoys the occasional drink.

That spiky ship, the _Naradu_ or something, has been destroyed and there have been causalities, but the members of the bridge are celebrating their own survival with plenty of Romulan Ale, whiskey, and scotch. Captain Kirk gallivants about the Bridge, drunken tears of mirth and relief clearly evident on his face.

He slaps his hand down on each officer's shoulder and is met with various degrees of exasperation and amusement. In slurred, happy tones, he praises each one for their services while sloshing more alcohol down in commemoration. Ignoring the dark haired lass's rolling eyes, he waggles his eyebrows and says something about talented tongues.

Then the young captain practically skips over to Scotty and wraps a warm arm around his shoulders.

"And here, here we've got the best damn engineer! Best. Damn. Engineer!" He nearly shouts and crows, and Scotty cheers him, swinging back some more of his favored whiskey. The whole Bridge laughs, minus that Vulcan who hasn't even so much as sniffed his glass of ale.

Yet, they all raise their glasses in cheers to Scotty.

"Best damn engineer!" They all cry out before taking large gulps of their drinks. The captain's joy is contagious and they all find themselves laughing and thanking the gods that they haven't been pulled into a black hole or scattered across the universe in tiny, blasted pieces.

Best damn engineer. It's not the most eloquently spoken title he's ever had, but he holds it with more honor than anything else he's ever amounted to before in his life.

* * *

_**Glynnis calls him Scotch Tape.**_

He held that red candy tight in his little seven-year-old hand. Whenever one piece dissolved in his mouth, he popped a new one in. They were salty from the sweat on his hand but soon turned sweet as he sucked on them.

"Can I have one?"

He turned around to see a girl a little younger than him with a big smile on her face, revealing missing front teeth. Her hand outstretched towards him and his initial response was to ignore her. His father nudged him, and he begrudgingly gave the little girl a piece.

"Thanks." She put it in her mouth then rubbed the hand that had touched his against her pink pants. "You're sticky."

"No, I'm Montgomery Scott," he answered, annoyed. There was something about her that made her seem like she might be more fun to spend time with at the fair instead of his younger siblings. She giggled pleasantly at his indignation and he liked that, so he added, "My friends call me Scotty."

"I'd rather call you Scotch Tape," she announced, flashing him her gap once more. "'Cause you're so sticky and Scotch sounds like Scott." She explained in clipped tones that made his father chuckle.

Scotty looked up at his father who gave him a nod, and the two young children walked off to see more of the fair.

"My name is Glynnis Campbell," she chirped, slipping her hand into his sticky one.

"I'd rather call you Grinnis," he replied with a smile to match hers.

x

When he returned home, the vase of flowers he had gotten her last week was missing from the table. That was the first sign. He looked around and saw that the bookshelves were empty save for his own engineering books. Suspicious, he peeked in the bedroom to find that the drawers lacked her brightly patterned shirts that he was so used to seeing.

Attached to his pillow with a pin was a note.

_Scotch Tape,_

_I saw you got the confirmation tape of admittance to Starfleet. Congratulations! I know it's what you've wanted for years._

_And that's why I left. I know we talked a few times about what would happen if you got accepted. And every time, you promised me you'd stay on Earth with me. Well, aren't you just the sweetest guy? Thank you. I never deserved anyone as good as you._

_Call me selfish, but I'd hate myself if I deprived Starfleet of someone who's sure to be their best engineer ever. I don't want to be guilty when something goes wrong that you couldn't fix because you were stuck on Earth with me._

_You'd be miserable on Earth. You know that, I know that. I'd hate for you to be miserable, just for me. So go to Starfleet. Go to space. I'll love you no matter where you are in the universe. Sorry it couldn't be a better goodbye, but I thought if it was in person, I'd never have the heart to leave._

_Love Always,_

_Grinnis_

The divorce papers lay next to her note with her signature scripted at the bottom. He sighed and signed them himself. It was for the best, he supposed.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Uhura calls him Monty.**_

A flick of a slender wrist and suddenly the sparks are flying and previously cold panels are whirring with energy. Uhura hands back the wrench with a small, satisfied smile on her face. Scotty grins back with pride clearly evident on his face.

"Ye did a good job, lass," he beams as he continues connecting wires. She wipes her hands on the rag laying on the floor beside them, glancing occasionally at the grease under her nails with an excited expression.

"You flatter me," Uhura answers, laughing.

"I cannae deny what is true," he answers with all the air of a gentleman. Scotty feels a glow when she laughs charmingly at his mannerisms. There's a break in their conversation as he attaches the last two wires.

"I love this ship, I love the _Enterprise_," she breathes almost to herself. She rested a semi-clean hand on the panels as though to transfer her love through osmosis.

"Do ye now?" Scotty teased, bringing her from her reverie. "Ah'll bet I love it more."

A challenge sparked in her eyes and suddenly, they found themselves engaged in a battle of words, each trying to outmatch the other in their love for the fair ship.

"I pulled the angry girlfriend bit and convinced Spock to assign me to the _Enterprise_ when I was supposed to be on the _Farragut_."

The words blurt out of her mouth before she can even think about what she just said. The stunned look on Scotty's face makes her freeze as she realizes what she's just announced.

The laughter that erupts from his mouth shook her. He wipes the tears from his face and she's smiling sheepishly.

"It sounds pretty bad when I say it that way," she tries to explain, weakly gesturing her hands around her.

"Lass, trust me. Ah understand," he reassures her, patting her comfortably on the knee. "Ah know you're meant tah be here."

"Thanks, Monty." It's a gentle smile and her eyes met his for a moment before looking away shyly.

The nickname warms him. It's her name for him and hers alone. The growing warmth spreads through him as strong as the proud, brotherly glow he felt when she succeeded in her first bout of engineering just minutes before.

"It's our secret."

* * *

_**Sulu calls him Scotty.**_

"Scotch was inwented by a little old lady from Leningrad, Mr. Scott."

Silence surrounded the tiny table in the cafeteria as Scotty blinked rapidly in the direction of the much younger man beside him. Sulu sat with them, chuckling behind his hand at the absurdity of the comment.

"Laddie, there is so much _wrong_ wit' tha' statement," Scotty finally replied, drinking the said beverage. He smacked his lips and looked at the offended youth before continuing. "An' ah've told ye before. My friends call me Scotty."

"You'll have to forgive him," Sulu cut in with a lopsided grin. "He's Russian." He looked deliberately at Chekov. "And seventeen."

The two men laughed as the blushing teenager picked up his tray from the table. He looked at them both with a stony stare.

"I do not like you anymore. I am leawing."

Sulu called out an apology to his friend's retreating form, but his laughter nullified it. Sulu and Scotty calmed down after a few more bouts of chuckling and resumed their friendly debate over the best pick-me-up beverages.

A tiny alarm buzzed on Sulu's wristwatch, indicating his need to return to the Bridge.

"Sorry to cut this short, but I have to go," he paused. "Scotty."

A nod and then he was gone, walking down the hallway to the Bridge. Scotty beamed to himself. It was good to be off that Godforsaken planet and with other people again. More friends, less ice.

* * *

_**Spock calls him Montgomery.**_

"Beam us up, Montgomery."

Scotty visibly winced at the signal as he transported the landing crew back onto the _Enterprise_. Kirk, Sulu, and Spock rematerialized, the former two donning wide grins on their faces.

They informed Scotty of their findings on the planet. Apparently, the trip went well without significant problems. Unfortunately, as with most trips, there was an injury involved. It was nothing too significant, but Sulu had twisted his wrist through some strange turn of events that had also led to Kirk's shirt ripping. Scotty had learned not to question such matters anymore. Still, it was an injury and Doctor McCoy was needed for that area of expertise.

"Join us on the Bridge when you finish your work here, Montgomery. There is much that needs to be discussed before we chart out our next course of direction," Spock stated as he exited the room.

Sulu and Kirk both grinned again as they headed to Sick Bay.

"Montgomery?" Kirk mouthed silently before he disappeared behind the doorway.

Scotty shook his head as he finished punching in numbers at his console. He blamed the captain entirely for this one. For months, he had been attempting to establish a friendlier attitude to their resident Vulcan. He insisted that Spock call him _Jim_ instead of _Captain_. Whether it was meant to establish friendship or it was just for Kirk's own sick amusement, he convinced Spock to call all the crew members by their first names.

Rumor had it that it had something to do with Uhura and a running joke from the Academy. It made Spock green in the ears, so Scotty never questioned the gossip.

For one reason or another, Spock complied with the captain's wishes and had begun calling everyone by a more casual name rather than by their official title. Scotty knew Sulu was so thankful the day the commander stopped referring to him as solely _helmsman_.

But _Montgomery_?

Of all the names to name your child, that's the name you give when you don't really love it. He's hated his name since he could pronounce it and has been asking people to call him Scotty ever since.

But try as he might, he can't convince Spock to call him Scotty like all his other friends do.

Scotty sulks for a moment at his console before heading towards the Bridge. He never should have refused to answer Spock's questions when he and Kirk first beamed aboard the _Enterprise_.

"_Ah'd rather not take sides_," Scotty murmured under his breath as he walked down the hall, regretting those words from months ago. "Ah should have taken his side. All this Montgomery business. Ah know wha' this is. It's ongoin' punishment."

* * *

**Integrity: A name is the blueprint of the thing we call character.  
You ask, "What's in a name?" I answer, "Just about everything you do."**

**–Morris Mandel**

* * *

_And that's that. Thank you everyone who has read, reviewed, and lurked. I appreciate it all. Thank you. I hope you have all enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Please review and let me know what you think. I want to know what your favorite parts were!_


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